


deadbeat

by langelos



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: :(, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-11-24 16:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18167738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/langelos/pseuds/langelos
Summary: Klaus’ head felt like it was full of lead, and his limbs were heavy and numb. The dead were still screaming his name, but instead of the usual rage-filled accusations, the deformed ghosts of the mausoleum seemed almost...desperate?Before he could ponder further on it, the thick door swung open, a strip of sunlight momentarily blinding him. He looked up to meet his father’s blown pupils, the closest sign of excitement that was ever expressed on his cold face. Klaus felt his stomach drop.--Or, Number Four’s potential becomes more apparent.





	1. Hey I Think I'm Dying

Being back in the old mansion was… odd, to say the least.

Pretending to be thirteen again was even odder. At thirteen, Klaus’ body was drug-free, and the change was immensely noticeable. Sometimes he would stand in front of a mirror, examining his youthful appearance. His skin was still pale, yes, but it had a healthy glow to it that his thirty year old self did not. His hands didn’t shake and his eyes weren’t constantly dried out, his stomach didn’t cramp and ache, and he breathed without any tightness clenching at his lungs.

Although he appreciated his new (old?), healthy body, he wished it didn’t come with the price of once again being under Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ control. He had almost forgotten how often his father “trained” him, and he definitely didn’t miss it. At least in this timeline, he wasn’t so alone anymore. He and his siblings were more involved with each other than they ever had been before.

The moment they had arrived in the past, they had agreed to ensure Vanya’s safety and inclusion to the best of their ability. This plan was only cemented when she awoke in tears, begging for forgiveness and clinging to Allison. Klaus himself had teared up, especially as Ben - alive Ben! - grouped them up for a hug. Diego had dissolved into tears like the crybaby he was, then pretended it hadn’t happened afterwards. Klaus treasured the memory deeply.

When the waterworks were over, they needed to set a game plan. First, they had decided, was to gradually ease Vanya off her pills. If she managed to gain control of her powers, half the crisis was already covered. At that point in her life, their caretakers wouldn’t check to see if she had swallowed them after so many years of obedience.

They would help train her in the courtyard, the only place without cameras. Their schedule would depend entirely on Reginald and whatever training he decided for the week, so they would have to take what they could get whenever they were able to sneak out.

After that, they had no idea what to do, but it was a start. It was a start.

Speaking of not being alone…. He glanced up at a scuffling sound.

Today, a woman and a young child stood in the corner of his room. The boy stared at him with judging eyes. His lips were blue. His mother gripped her child’s hand tightly, weeping softly. She looked almost alive, if not for her transparency. Her body was completely uninjured, for which Klaus was thankful for. He was a little bothered by the crying, but at least they weren’t yelling at him yet.

Adjusting to life in the academy again was difficult. Adjusting to the ghosts being present again was even more difficult.

Distantly, he heard a bell ring. He hastened to straighten his uniform jacket and rush downstairs. He could already hear his siblings’ footsteps hit loudly against the wooden stairs. He shut his door behind him and barely caught up with the rest.

The ghosts drifted after him.

Klaus robotically took his place between Ben and Allison. Ben brushed shoulders with him, and Klaus felt himself relax. Ben’s presence always managed to calm him down. They stood silently as Reginald’s footsteps echoed through the dining room, stopping at the head of the table. Klaus locked eyes with a stiff Diego, who was across from him, and offered a tiny, lopsided grin. Diego’s shoulders slumped, and he threw a quick smile back.

Yeah, maybe the apocalypse had killed everyone they had ever known or loved, and yes, they had been forced into the bodies of children and stuck in the hellish home of the Umbrella Academy, but they were closer as a family than they ever had been before, dammit!

Which was all kinds of fucked up, but oh well. Better late than never, right?

Dear Papa’s beady eyes narrowed at the exchange, and Klaus stifled his smile into a more neutral look while Diego turned his head away. Apparently Reginald didn’t care enough to reprimand them, because he grasped his chair a moment later.

“Sit!”

They sat.

Breakfast was like a quickie - short, delicious, and a brief escape from life. Klaus fondly recalled popping pills at the table in his first childhood, but he had made a promise to Ben this time around. As much as he wanted to seek out his old drug dealer - who had, coincidentally, been his first secret boyfriend, which really helped with appeasing his addiction - he refrained. For now. He hadn’t started on anything until he was fifteen the first go around, anyway, so he thought he should at least try to last that long before giving in.

“Does it taste good?” the dead boy suddenly asked innocently, startling Klaus from his enjoyment of the food. Ben glanced up at his aborted movement, concerned, and Klaus waved him off. The small child stared at him maliciously. “I wish I could eat too.”

Klaus didn’t respond. Instead, he shoved his food down his throat faster. The boy hissed at him animalistically.

“Number Four,” Sir Reginald called sharply.

“Yes, Daddy?” Klaus answered immediately.

His father gave him the Look of Disapproval that Klaus oh-so-loved. “Stop that barbaric behavior at once and eat with decorum.”

“Yes, Daddy,” he agreed, tossing him an angelic smile. Reginald didn’t waste his breath on reprimanding his inappropriate speech anymore.

The others shifted in their seats uncomfortably, and Klaus could practically feel Allison’s searching gaze and Luther’s disapproving expression locked on him. Ben tried to nudge him discreetly, but a barked “Six!” from their father stopped him in his tracks. Klaus didn’t look up from his plate.

After that, breakfast was a hurried affair. Minutes later, the faint record player was interrupted by the chiming of the grandfather clock. Klaus felt dread creeping up on him when he noticed Papa Hargreeves staring him down.

“Children, you will follow your lesson plans as usual until lunch at precisely noon,” Reginald dismissed. Silverware clattered against the plates as the children stood up. As soon as Klaus stood up, however, he was stopped by their father’s voice. “Number Four, come with me. You’ll be undergoing your personal training today.”

He froze before forcing himself to react casually. “Yes, sir,” he said dully, and if his change in tone went unnoticed by his siblings as they clambered up the stairs to their duties, well, he wasn’t too bitter about it.

Only Ben hesitated at the foot of the stairs, pressing his lips into a thin line. Klaus shook his head, urging him to leave, and after a few agonizing seconds, he did.

In a better world, maybe they would have been able to resist Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ iron ruling. But Klaus knew from experience that arguing only made it worse, and they were stuck with the man until they were of legal age to leave, so Klaus remained silent and submissive when he had to. Klaus took one last look at Ben running up the staircase before their father clamped his hand on his shoulder and steered him away.

The others were unaware of what his training consisted of, and he intended to keep it that way. Ben had reluctantly agreed to keep his secret. After all, Klaus never spoke of Ben’s training either.

The walk to his “training” was completely silent, other than the crunch of gravel underneath their shoes. Klaus’ fear only grew as the mausoleum came into view. In his peripheral vision, he saw the dead mother and child still following him. Great.

He dragged his feet, testing the waters of what he could get away with. Reginald was not having it. “Number Four, if you insist on being resistant, I will increase your training by another hour. Your impudence will not be tolerated any longer.” Klaus winced. Clearly he was still ticked off about Klaus’ lack of manners that morning.

He could already hear the screaming from outside his prison.

Reginald heaved the door open, and the dead went quiet. A dozen pairs of eyes tracked his movement as his father forced him inside. He swung around wildly, looking up at his adopted father from the cold ground.

“I will be back for you in four hours. Try to actually improve your abilities for once, Number Four.” Reginald began to close the door.

In a last ditch effort, Klaus gazed into his father’s eyes, trying to convey how wrong this was, how scared he was.

“Please.” Klaus’ whisper was a harsh echo across the stone walls. The door stopped moving.

His father was unimpressed.

“I expect you to get over this ridiculous fear as soon as possible, Number Four,” he said coldly, then shut his only exit.

And then Klaus was alone.

Well, he wished he was alone.

Impatient figures hovered around him, mumbling and then moaning when he didn’t respond. He shut his hands over his ears, trying to block them out before they pierced his eardrums with their screeching. He was sure Reginald was monitoring his spiking heart rate from the sensors they all had to wear.

He closed his eyes and balled up on the ground, flinching when his hands couldn’t block out the screaming. He had been through this so many times, but it still managed to strike fear in him every time.

These ghosts, the ones who resided in the mausoleum, were corrupted like no others he had ever seen. Driven insane by the constant darkness and rank stench, they had become ravenous monsters without reason.

He didn’t know how long he spent, curled into himself and shaking, but the dead never stopped their harassment. It seemed endless.

As soon as he thought that, though, the din quieted down. Strange, he thought.

Klaus peeked open his eyes.

The mother was crouched next to him, watching him oddly. It was only then that he saw the faint blue light reflecting through her body from his own.

She reached towards him, stroking her hand across his cheek. Ice rushed through his veins. Her child giggled next to her and patted his hair. He couldn’t breathe.

They...they could touch him. This had never happened before -- except for Ben, of course. But Ben’s tangibility was intentional. This was not.

Wildly, Klaus crawled backwards to the corner of the mausoleum. Apparently the ghosts had just realized the significance of what had occurred, because they moved towards him like a wave eager to drown him. Klaus could see their mangled faces twist with elation as they pulled on his body, dragging him to the middle of the dank floor. Klaus scrambled desperately away, ripping his fingernails as they clung to the ground.

“Klaus,” they called feverishly. “Klaus, help us.”

A sob was ripped from his chest as clawed nails broke through his skin.

“Klaus, help me,” the child ghost pleaded, copying the others. He tugged on his clothes. His mother watched, refined in a way that none of the others ever were, a smile on her lips.

“I can’t,” he gasped, shoving him away. Terror stained his voice as his skin was cut and bruised. The boy stumbled back, looking almost surprised as he fell on his behind. The mother’s pleasant expression instantly morphed into something ferocious.

She pushed her way past the rest of the dead to him, clammy hands reaching up and clamping around his neck. Klaus struggled frantically, twisting and kicking until the physical effort combined with his cut-off airway wore him down. He tried to lash out more, but black spots were already infiltrating his vision. He scratched weakly at the woman’s wrists, but she only squeezed harder on his neck. He could distantly hear screeching from all around him, but if any words were said, he couldn’t understand them.

The edges of his sight became black and blurry. His cheeks were wet. He couldn’t feel his hands.

 _I’m going to die,_ he realized, a little hysterically.

As if thinking the same thing, the woman smiled.

He met eyes with her son, who looked truly terrified, his eyes wide and lips blue, blue, blue.

He blacked out.

“Back again?” a girl’s voice asked.

The world was white.

“What?” he said. He was standing on a beach.

“Oh, are we going to go through all this again?” She sounded annoyed. Suddenly it clicked.

“God,” he said stupidly.

“Or something like it,” she agreed. She was holding a boogie board. Klaus giggled deliriously. “Well? Why are you here?”

“Um, I _died_ ,” Klaus said, giving her a weird look. “Isn’t it a bit obvious why I’m here?”

God’s eyes examined him critically. Klaus shivered.

“No,” she said slowly. “It’s not. I told you before, didn’t I? I don’t like you all that much. I thought you’d take a hint and not come back.”

What? “I don’t understand.” Maybe he looked helplessly lost in his tiny, child’s body, or it was his genuinely confused tone, but God looked at him with something akin to pity and resignment.

“Wake up, Klaus,” she said, almost gently, but also with contempt. “Don’t come back a third time.”

The beach disappeared, and it was black.

Klaus’ body ached. His head felt like it was full of lead, and his limbs were heavy and numb. The dead were still screaming his name, but instead of the usual rage-filled accusations, the deformed ghosts of the mausoleum seemed almost...desperate? He couldn’t move his body, and everything hurt.

Before he could ponder further on what happened, the thick door swung open, a strip of sunlight momentarily blinding him through his eyelids. He blinked open his eyes, squinting. A pained whimper escaped him as his head throbbed painfully. Slowly, he looked up to meet his father’s blown pupils, the closest sign of excitement that was ever expressed on his cold face. Klaus felt his stomach drop.

“Dad?” Embarrassingly, his voice cracked. A shiver went down his spine at the gleam in his father’s eyes. “What...what happened?”

A small, almost nonexistent smile twitched at Reginald’s lips.

“You have made exceptional progress today, Number Four,” he said as an answer, and the lack of disappointment in his voice almost made Klaus proud.


	2. Y'all I'm Going Cray-Cray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus learns to use his powers with help from his father. Vanya has an accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont even ask me about the titles of these chapters idk its just what came to me

The days passed slowly after that day in the mausoleum.

Dad was eager to test out his new abilities, and he didn’t restrain himself in the least. He spent hours sitting in an empty room with the man, concentrating on trying to summon a ghost. There was an old woman who liked to hum lullabies in the house, and Klaus would usually materialize her instead of any of the others. He pitied her just a little - she was a sweet woman, if forgetful, and Klaus honestly thought that she didn’t even realize she was dead.

Reginald would always watch with excitement, scribbling down his observations with fervor; this was the greatest breakthrough Klaus had ever had, and it was a big jump from his previous uselessness. The issue now was figuring out how to control the dead, not just summon them.

Ghosts had a mind of their own, in Klaus’ experience. Caught up in their own dreams and desires, it was difficult to get a word in with them unless it was pertaining to whatever they wanted. Sometimes, they didn’t even want anything from Klaus; they were just viciously pleased to drag someone down into their own misery. Klaus didn’t talk to Dad about those ghosts very often.

One of the plus sides to Reginald’s renewed interest in Klaus’ powers was his lax attitude towards his requests, as long as they had a purpose. Klaus had managed to forego his shoes and socks from his uniform, with Reginald’s approval, and although he hadn’t quite gotten to pestering a skirt out of his father, he definitely had put it down on his to-do list.

It probably wouldn’t float by his dear father, but at this point there was no harm in asking. Klaus’ inane blabbering was often met by annoyed glances now instead of the cold glares he used to get. Klaus almost swooned at the thought of their growing relationship. Maybe he would finally bump Luther out from the position of their father‘s favorite child!

Probably not. But he was sure he was well in the running for winning the spot of his favorite experiment.

When Klaus had first asked about being allowed to roam barefoot, Reginald scowled, opening his mouth in preparation of denying him. Then, instead of the instant rebuke Klaus was expecting, his expression had turned thoughtful. He asked him why.

Klaus was so caught off guard by the irregular response that he had stood there in stunned silence for a solid minute before Reginald had gotten impatient and told him to close his mouth.

Slowly, almost suspiciously, Klaus had told him the reason he preferred to walk around without shoes. He struggled to explain why he felt more in control, more grounded, more _connected_ when the soles of his feet touched the floor. His father had grown silent for a long time until Klaus began to shift from one foot to the other nervously. Then he had nodded at him and announced that they would test the benefits of Klaus’ request.

The results had been astounding. The rate at which Klaus was able to summon shot up exponentially. Klaus tried not to feel too pleased at Reginald’s approval.

The training, overall, was exhausting. Sometimes, especially in the beginning when he was still wearing shoes, Klaus couldn’t materialize anyone, and he would look at his father fearfully. Reginald would stare at him, thin-lipped, with that hint of disappointment in his eyes, but he never threatened to put him in the mausoleum anymore. Not now that Klaus was cooperating. And it was easier, being useful; sure, it left him drained at the end of the day, but at least his nightmares wouldn’t be as deeply plagued by rotting bodies as they were when he was stuck looking at the morbid, moving corpses in his personal hell of the mausoleum.

He pushed away the memories of sleepless nights after the day they killed him, purposefully ignoring that incident.

Once, Klaus had asked his father about it. Reginald had peered down at him, and Klaus had been reminded of God’s piercing, judgmental eyes.

_“For now we will focus on the summoning of the deceased. Worry not, we will get to exploring the nature of your supposed inability to die eventually, Number Four.”_

Needless to say, Klaus was having some serious anxiety about what exactly that training might entail.

By the end of the day, Klaus was always mentally and physically beat. The dead swirled around him more often now, simpering and tragic in their pleas for him to help now that they knew what he could do.

Today, he practically floated to the living room after practice. His feet felt incredibly light…. He pushed open the doors, taking in the sight of his siblings talking in low voices and lounging around the room. Unsurprisingly, none of them looked up when he entered. Drowsily, he collapsed onto the couch next to Ben, who glanced up from his book to smile at him.

“How was training?” he asked, the slightest tinge of worry coating his voice.

“Oh, it was absolutely spectacular,” Klaus drawled. Ben relaxed at his blaise answer. He bookmarked his place in the book, shutting it softly, and Klaus let out a tired exhale as his brother rubbed his arm comfortingly for a brief second.

“You’ve been working on your summoning, right?” Diego clocked into their conversation, looking genuinely interested. “How’s that been going?”

“It’s been alright,” Klaus said, a little hesitantly, then more boastfully added, “Yours truly is practically a master at it now.”

He could admit he was proud of how far he had come regarding his powers in this timeline. He hadn’t ever though it was possible back when he was thirty. In an ironic way, the apocalypse was a fresh start for him.

“I’m proud of you, Klaus,” Ben said sincerely. “You’re doing great.”

“Yeah, man,” Diego agreed, and Klaus had to look away from embarrassment.

“Well, I’ll be,” he said, imitating a Southern belle and fanning his reddening face. “You two scalliwags sure know how to capture a gal’s heart.”

“Scalliwags?” Diego said. “Isn’t that, like, a pirate word?”

“And wouldn’t you be a pirate for stealing my one and only heart, Diego darling?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works -”

“Ah! Shush, you beast!” Klaus cried, slapping his hand over Diego’s mouth. Diego licked his palm. Klaus beamed at him. “Oh, are you into spit play?”

Diego pushed his hand away, grimacing. “Spit pla-- I don’t even want to fucking know.”

The others drifted off into new conversations, and Klaus was left to stare off into space. A woman hissed at him from across the room, blood spurting from her wrists, and he watched as it pooled at her feet.

He wondered if it would stain his hands if he dipped them into it. Probably, if he wanted it to. He didn’t notice his hands glowly faintly blue, stuffed into his pockets as they were.

A book on the table shifted closer to him, and he jerked and stared at it. He looked around the room. No one had noticed. He rubbed his eyes. God, he felt like he was going crazy sometimes. The woman stopped hissing.

All of a sudden, exhaustion swept over Klaus’ body. He stretched his arms over his head, standing up. “I’m gonna head up to bed, I’m beat. Try not to miss me too much,” he told his siblings, blowing them each a kiss. Ben caught his kiss with his hand, the trooper, while the rest of his traitorous kind of brethren ignored it. Diego nodded at him, muttering a farewell, and Luther gave him a cursory glance. Five ignored him, the little prick. Allison smiled at him, and as he passed Vanya, he heard a tiny, “Goodnight, Klaus.”

His head hit his pillow and he met oblivion.

\----------------------------------------

For all things considered, Five thought the plan was going pretty well. It had been almost a year since they had gone back in the past, and Vanya was already able to focus her power without accidentally destroying everything. Bonus points, she hadn’t managed to destroy the world yet.

It was so peaceful that it almost made him nervous. Reuniting with his family was more than he could ever hope for, and he was slowly but surely catching up with that wide expanse of emotional separation. It was good not to be alone. It was better to not be lost in a post-apocalyptic world scavenging for food.  He tried not to think about Delores.

Currently, he was reading silently alongside Ben, enjoying the allotted free time they had for an hour in the afternoon before returning to their studies and then undergoing their physical regime under Reginald’s watchful eye before dinner. Of course, the moment had to be ruined by Klaus slamming the door open.

“What’s up, sugar pop?” Klaus draped himself over Five’s shoulders. Five tried not to roll his eyes.

“Reading,” Five sounded out slowly. “You should try it out sometime.”

“Aw, Five, you’re so cute!” Klaus grinned. “We all know I can’t read!"

Ben snorted.

“I must have missed the memo,” Five said dryly. He tried to shake Klaus off his back, but his brother only wrapped his arms around his neck and rested his head on Five’s head.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked instead of moving. Five gave up.

“Isaac Newton’s _Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy_ ,” Five said primly, indulging in Klaus’ question.

“Isn’t he the guy who died a virgin?”

“What are you, twelve?” Five snapped, irritated. He immediately regretted it when Klaus’ face lit up gleefully.

“No, I’m _Four._ ”

Ben was trying to stifle a smile. Five could tell.

“Don’t encourage him,” Five told him. Ben schooled his face into a more serious expression, but a smile twitched at his lips.

“You know it was a good one,” Klaus nudged him over and over until Five almost fell out of his seat, grinning like a lunatic, and Ben burst out laughing.

“It was not,” Five insisted, disgruntled. He scooted away from Klaus, his eye twitching when he was followed. “If anything, _it proved my point--_ ”

A knock on the door interrupted their bickering.

“Master Klaus, your father has requested your presence for a session of training,” Pogo said apologetically, seemingly guilty for being the cause of halting their interaction.

“But it’s our free period,” Ben protested, looking over at Klaus with confusion. Klaus didn’t meet his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Klaus waved off Ben’s concern. “Pops probably just wants to see me summon old Mrs. Jenners again so he has some new images for his nightly masturbation sessions. Same old, same old.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Ben made a disgusted face, which Five mirrored.

“Actually, Master Klaus,” Pogo started, brow drawn in. “Your father mentioned something about integrating a new training exercise.”

Confusion, then realization dawned on Klaus’ face. Five watched as his expression grew grim.

“Oh,” he said simply. “I see.”

“Klaus?” Ben said with uncertainty.

Klaus forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you two sexy bears at dinner tonight,” he winked, then turned and followed Pogo out of the room, the door shutting behind him softly.

Five and Ben exchanged glances. Not knowing what to say, and unsure of why Klaus’ reaction seemed so off, Five returned to his book, but he found himself unable to concentrate on the words. Something felt wrong.

“Do you think something’s off about Klaus lately?” Ben asked him suddenly.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, he just seems more...serious than usual.”

Five thought about the shadows that seemed to cross Klaus’ face when Pogo entered the room during their break. The excessive spans of silence that plagued him after returning from his new training regime. The dazed out look on his face at random intervals, despite his confirmed sobriety.

Before he could open his mouth to answer, however, Allison burst into the room, holding a sobbing Vanya.

“Family meeting,” Allison said frantically, looking at Five. Five got the message loud and clear, popping around the house to find the rest of their siblings.

By the time they were all gathered on the ground floor, Vanya had calmed down a little, but it was clear that Diego had gotten there in time to witness her breakdown because he was looking at her as if he had no idea what to do.

“What happened?” Diego demanded, shaken from Vanya’s tears.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Vanya sniffled, then burst out crying again. Five took a step back in alarm, relieved to see that both Luther and Diego looked just as lost as he felt. Allison rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ben mumbled to her, probably something comforting, and her tears lessened.

“She broke the glass on the table in the study by accident,” Allison answered for her in a defensive tone.

“What?!” Luther said loudly, almost shouting, and they shushed him. He stilled, and they waited for any sound before continuing.

“We already cleaned up the mess, and we could come up with some excuse for why it broke if Dad even noticed the table was gone, but…” She trailed off.

“But what?” Ben asked.

“Dad has a room filled with security footage from cameras all over the house, which means--”

“Shit,” muttered Five. This was not good. “There’s a camera in there. If Father sees…”

The thought was not finished. They all knew what would happen.

“We need to delete that footage,” Diego hissed, pushing his hand through his hair over and over again in a nervous habit.

They all glanced over at Luther, Number One, who looked deeply conflicted. “Okay,” he said, breaking out of his contemplation. “Here’s what we do.”  

Five had to admit that although Luther would be the first to drop down on his knees and suck Reginald’s dick if he was ordered to, there was a reason he was chosen as the leader of the group. As thick-headed as he was when it came to common sense, Luther could think under pressure and formulate a plan better than any of them.

“Five, you’ll be the one to pop in the security room and loop the tape. You’re the least likely to be questioned for disappearing.” Obviously. “Diego, you distract Grace and keep her away. Do we know if Pogo is with Dad?” Luther asked.

They all glanced at each other. Vanya was shaking under Allison’s comforting arm.

“Pogo took Klaus for training today with Dad,” Ben offered hesitantly. The memory of Klaus’ grave expression from earlier flashed through Five’s head.

“If he’s not with Dad still, he’ll be in his office or his own quarters,” Allison said, but there was a tinge of doubt in her words.

Luther was silent for a moment. “Alright, Ben will patrol around the second floor where Pogo’s room is at. Allison and Vanya will stay on the first floor and watch out for him down here. If any of you see him, keep him busy. We’ll have to hope for the best.”

“What about you?” Diego asked, and Five could hear the underlying resentment in his words, but Diego’s inferiority complex towards Luther had diminished in the last few years, so it was barely noticeable.

“I’ll be lookout for Five,” Luther said seriously. “If Dad does notice something’s up, he’ll be more likely to trust me.”

Grudgingly, Five had to admit is was as solid of a plan as they could get in their situation.

Before he knew it, Five was in the tiny security room, mildly impressed by the sheer amount of cameras set up in the house. He saw Diego wandering around in the kitchen, probably looking for Grace, while Allison and Vanya sat on the couch casually a few rooms away. In the corner, a newer-looking screen resided, and Five was relieved to see Reginald and Grace in it with Klaus. Although… was Klaus laying down?

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the mission at hand: finding the footage of the study. He scanned through the varying screens rapidly, eyes stopping briefly over a darkened screen with a night filter over it before moving on. A triumphant smile spread over his face when he landed on what he was looking for.

With the speed of an expert, he flicked through the footage, pausing over the moment when Vanya unleashed her powers accidentally. He cut the part out, carefully looping the video of Allison and Vanya studying together to fill up the space. Satisfied, he brush off his hands and took a step back from the system.

He was just about to book it when he once again noticed the screen with Klaus on it.

Curious, Five lingered over the live video footage. Klaus was wearing nothing but a thin white gown, laying flat against a metal table. A monitor next to him tracked his steady heartbeat, and an IV was hooked into his arm. Reginald was next to him, writing hurriedly. Grace stood away from them with her plastic smile, holding a glass of water. That was odd… Grace didn’t usually assist with training sessions unless there was an injury. Five watched Klaus move his mouth in a question, and he had a moment of frustration where he wished there was audio on the cameras. Then again, it did help when they were sneaking around Reginald’s back.

Reginald must have responded because Klaus visibly huffed out a sigh and closed his eyes. Grace approached him, leaning down to murmur to him, and then Klaus pushed up to a sitting position with a grimace while Grace helped him. Once stable, she handed him the water, and Five was a little taken aback to see him drink it down in mere seconds as if he had been parched.

“Oh, hi, Pogo,” Luther’s voice suddenly floated through the door. Five tensed.

“Master Luther, what on earth are you doing over here?”

“Oh...uh...just doing some laps around the house. Thought I’d take a break right here. In front of this door.”

Five had to restrain himself from groaning. That idiot. 

Quickly, he took one last glance at the footage, and before he teleported out, he witnessed Reginald place his hand on Klaus’ messy head of hair, a sign of affection if not for the clinical way he looked down at his brother's pale, scrawny figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall shouldve seen my face at how much support you guys gave me. I can't even thank you enough.  
> Thoughts? :)


	3. I'm on the Highway to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not God,” Klaus accused, stepping back. Dark brown eyes followed him.
> 
> “No, I’m not,” he agreed. “And if I’m not God, who do you think I might be?”
> 
> It clicked. “Satan?!”

This time, he was inside. Carved columns lined down the room, seemingly endless. As far as Klaus could tell, there were no walls or doors for miles. A dimly lit chandelier hung directly over his head.

“Suicide is a sin, you know,” an amused voice chuckled next to his ear. It was a very deep voice.

“But I didn’t kill myself,” Klaus immediately argued, disoriented. He craned his head slightly, taking in sleek marble floors and an artistically enhanced ceiling. A huff of laughter on his neck had his body tensing up.

“But you did, didn’t you?” The masculine voice was matter-of-fact. “You laid down on that table with no resistance; you allowed yourself to die without a second thought. Assisted suicide is still suicide. Even if it’s not by your own hand.”

Finally, he turned to see an aristocratic man leaning over him. A shiver went down his spine.

“You’re not God,” Klaus accused, stepping back. Dark brown eyes followed him.

“No, I’m not,” he agreed. “And if I’m not God, who do you think I might be?”

For a second, Klaus didn’t get it. He stared at the man’s sharp jawline, maroon tie, and perfect blond hair. The complete opposite of God’s child-like appearance.

_“Suicide is a sin, you know.”_

It clicked. “ _Satan?!_ ”

The devil’s lips quirked up. “Bingo.”

“But-” Klaus gaped at him, speechless. “Are you serious? Am I seriously in Hell?”

“Yes,” he said pleasantly. “Come, let’s have a seat, shall we?” Klaus blinked and suddenly they were standing in a well-furnished room, antique chairs waiting patiently for them. Klaus sat after a small prompting from the devil. Lucifer did not sit. Instead, he gracefully walked over to a nook in his walls filled with bottles of alcohol.

“I’m sure you must be wondering why you’re here,” Lucifer said, back facing him. He strained his head over his shoulder to look at Klaus. “Vodka? Or whiskey?”

“Whiskey,” Klaus answered faintly. The room was silent except for the sound of liquor sloshing as it hit the bottom of a glass.

“Klaus Hargreeves,” Lucifer mused, turning around with two drinks in his hands. He passed one to Klaus, who held it uneasily. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. I was rather surprised it took so long.”

“Really? Why?”

“You’re a bit famous in the realms of the dead. We’ve all taken bets on when you’d come visit,” he winked. Klaus felt mildly touched.

“How famous are we talking here? Like Beyonce famous or Robert Sheehan famous?” Klaus asked, genuinely intrigued.

Confusion marred the devil’s face. “Who is Robert Sheehan?”

“Oh pish, nevermind that. Am I a VIP or what?”

Lucifer laughed. “You’re about as VIP as a human can get around here. On terms of human celebrities, you’d rank as Madonna, I suppose.”

“The timeless slut of America,” Klaus said dreamily, thoroughly delighted. “How poetic.”

“Indeed.” The man set down his glass, turning serious. “Klaus, let me put it simply for you: you’ve got a rather _annoying_ power. We have a very tight hold on the exit here, but you walk past it as if it isn’t there. And to be frank, it’s easier to just send you back than to deal with whatever mayhem you might cause with the rest of the dead in these realms. Who knows what might happen if you roam amongst the population of Heaven and Hell?” He shook his head as if the very idea was preposterous. Klaus was a little offended.

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” he protested. “I’ll have you know that I am very beloved and well-adjusted.” He took a gulp of the whiskey, slamming it down on the side table dramatically.

Lucifer smiled, but it was not kind. His eyes turned cold. “Then let me sum it up for you, Klaus.” He stepped forward, leaning down and brushing a cool hand against Klaus’ face. Klaus twitched as it ran down his neck and to his chest. “I don’t want you. Neither does God. You’re troublesome, and frankly, Death is a pain to deal with, especially when it comes to anything involving you.”

Klaus flinched, wide-eyed as Lucifer _pushed_ through his skin, his chest morphing around the hand. The feeling was indescribable, but if Klaus had to try, he would say it was on par to the time he was electrocuted while covered in Jell-o. This was a little worse, though.

“This time, I’ll help you out and give your heart a kickstart. But I would advise you to plan ahead next time, and take a different route back to the living that doesn’t intersect with my highway to Hell.” Klaus was pretty sure that was the most advanced AC/DC joke he had ever heard in his _life_ (death?), and if he weren’t so terrified for his very being he would have allowed himself to enjoy it more. Unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t so great, so he stuck to shaking in complete and utter fear as Lucifer grinned down at him. Sadistic prick.

He was soon distracted by the hand squirming around in his body. A finger traced its way down one of his ribs. “Goodbye, Klaus. Hope to see you never.”

And the Devil reached into his ribcage, gripping his heart with a smile, before squeezing until Klaus’ vision burst into a mirage of white light.

Klaus gasped, jerking up and clutching his chest. The monitor next to him was going haywire, indicating his rapid heartbeat. His eyes flickered across the room frantically, dimly aware of Mom’s hand coming to rest on his back.

“Ten minutes and forty-three seconds,” Dad’s severe voice came from beside him. “Incredible.”

Klaus groaned, shielding his eyes. His head was pounding. Mom rubbed his back soothingly. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“Side effects, Number Four?” Dad asked, pen poised over his notebook. He didn’t even look up.

“Headache,” he mumbled. “Sore body. Cottonmouth.” He heard the distinctive scribbling in his ear and moved his hands up to his ears. Grace stroked his forehead.

“Temperature is at 99.7 Fahrenheit,” she announced, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. Her voice was muffled through Klaus’ fingers plugged in his ears.

After that, Reginald tested his reflexes, tapping at his knees and making him walk around the room. By the end of it, Klaus was exhausted, eyes drooping. He allowed his eyes to close, swaying slightly from overexertion.

“Number Four,” his dad’s voice said haltingly. He pried his eyes open, expecting a reprimand. Reginald seemed almost hesitant. “You did exceedingly well today. I am proud of your progress.” He gripped Klaus’ shoulder firmly.

Klaus exhaled slowly, looking up at his father. He knew the man didn’t mean it like he wanted him to mean it, in the way that a dad talked to his son rather than a scientist to an experiment, but he still felt his chest constrict and his throat grow tight. He knew he was actually almost thirty-one and not fourteen, but Reginald always made him feel like an incompetent child no matter what age he was, and for the first time ever he was being told that he did something _right._ A tear ran down his cheek, unbidden, and he quickly swiped it away and nodded jerkily at his father.

Reginald let him leave, and Mom led him back to his room where he collapsed in his bed. He felt feverish and shaken, almost as if he was coming down from a bad trip. He didn’t know what to make of Lucifer’s warning, or how he was supposed to avoid going back to Heaven or Hell, as if he had a choice. Maybe he did, and he didn’t know it. Lucifer had told him to “plan ahead,” whatever that meant.

Being told he wasn’t wanted hurt just a little. He had grown used to it, first when he was growing up as Reginald’s greatest disappointment, then as the useless druggie in the family, but now he couldn’t even die without being rejected? It was a new low for him.

He sighed, rolling over and glaring at the clock on his nightstand. He was so not in the mood for their physical training. He lugged himself out of bed, changed into his uniform, and forced himself to meet up with the rest of his siblings, who were trickling out from their private tutelages. Ben sidled up next to him, brushing shoulders, weirdly tense.

“You okay, Klaus?” Allison asked, even though she too looked unusually stressed.

“I’m just peachy,” he said, scooting over so she could stand next to him. She gave him a dubious look, but let it go.

The rest of the children trickled in, and Klaus noticed their stiff postures as they grouped up. “What’s up with you guys?” he wondered. Five’s head snapped up, and Klaus was unsettled by the calculating look he was given.

“A problem came up. We fixed it,” he said boredly. Out of all of them, he seemed the least concerned. Then again, Klaus supposed that Five had been through so much that there wasn’t much left that could faze him.

“Vanya had an accident,” Ben muttered next to him. “I’ll tell you later.”

He was gone for two hours tops. Figures that he’d miss all the fun.

“How was training, Klaus?” Five asked randomly. “You look pretty tired.”

Klaus paused, narrowing his eyes. Even Ben looked over at Five’s question in surprise. “It was fine,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Five said innocently, but Klaus could practically hear those little gears grinding in that brilliant head. What? What was that even supposed to mean? Five had never been curious about Klaus’ powers or how he was trained, always too caught up in his own abilities. So why was he asking now? “What was the new exercise Dad had you do?”

Klaus froze. He forced out a laugh. “Oh, Dad wanted to see if I could order the little ghosties around,” he lied. “Didn’t work out so great. Maybe next time, right?”

Instead of throwing Five off, it seemed to only make him more suspicious. Five frowned at him, clearly not buying his story, but spared him and said, “Hmm.”

Klaus could feel the confused looks from the rest, but neither Five or Klaus indulged them on their odd, agitated exchange. Luckily, their father showed up right on time, little Vanya trailing behind him with her stopwatch. He stopped at the side of their line, already holding that cursed notebook.

“You will begin with laps. Start now,” Reginald announced, and without further prompting, they shot off. Luther was in the lead, and Five popped out in front of him as usual, but Klaus could barely concentrate on the bickering. Bothered by Five’s interrogation and still bone-tired from the experiment, he lagged behind, barely keeping up with Ben. The run seemed to last for ages, and, unsurprisingly, he ended up dead last.

The stopwatch clicked, and Reginald marked down each of their times. He frowned as Klaus sat on the floor, leaning over with his head in his hands. Ben hovered over him. “Klaus? You okay?”

“Ugh,” Klaus answered, muffled. “I feel sick.”

“Number Four.” Reginald towered over him. Ben stiffened.

Klaus peeked through his fingers. Reginald reached forward and tugged him up by shoulder. He tried not to wince from how his body still ached, but he was sure it was noticed by his family.

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Reginald cut him off before he could begin. “Off to bed, Number Four, Grace will send your dinner up to you tonight.”

A wave of gratitude washed over him and his shoulders dropped. The sound of Mom’s heels approaching echoed through the room. He let her guide him up to his bedroom, the whistle from Vanya indicating the next round of drills resonating behind him.

———————-----------------

Diego couldn’t remember ever being so connected with his family. Back when they were kids, they all sectioned off into little groups, separating and isolating themselves like they were classmates instead of siblings. Now, it was different.

Luther and him were getting along without fighting every time they saw each other, Allison was helping include Vanya with their games and activities, and they were all getting used to seeing Ben again, except for Klaus, of course. Klaus… well, now that he thought about it, Klaus hadn’t really been around lately. Distantly, he remembered the first time Reginald had excused Klaus to go up to his room.

Since then, it had been a common thing. Weeks passed, and Klaus was looking smaller than he ever had before. For a while, Diego was almost concerned that he was on drugs again, but he had seen Reginald lead him out for training multiple times before, a clear sign that he was using his powers regularly.

Training was always a bore nowadays, and Diego was glad that he didn’t have to experiment with how long he could hold his breath anymore. He shuddered at the memory. Even better, there were days that Reginald even cancelled his practice for the day, an oddity he didn’t even remember happening the first time around. Well, whatever, it’s not he was complaining about having more free time.

A knock sounded at Diego’s door, interrupting his thoughts. “Come in!”

“Hey,” Luther greeted, pushing open Diego’s door. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Diego answered after a pause. Interacting with Luther so amiably was a new concept that they were both still trying to get used to. The fact that Luther even bothered to come talk to him when he was bored was a joyous leap in their relationship. “What about you?”

“I’m good,” he said, coming to sit next to Diego on his bed. “Got nothing to do, really. Dad cancelled my training session this morning.”

That surprised Diego immensely. Luther was the most successful out of all of them in regards to his powers, and so Dad was always intent on pushing Luther to his limits. As far as Diego was aware, he had never cancelled one of Number One’s practices before.

In fact, until recently, he hadn’t ever seen Reginald push back _any_ of their sessions. “Do you know why?”

Luther hesitated, clearly wondering if he should depart with the information Reginald had told him, but he cleared his throat. “He said something about Klaus needing extra time to practice.”

“Really?” Diego said, stumped. Was Klaus developing his powers that much? Or was he struggling more to discipline them? He recalled Klaus’ twitching form at mealtimes every day, particularly at dinner, when he would sit and shake, barely eating at all. The fact that sometimes he was so tired that even their cold-hearted father took pity on him and sent him to bed early. Guiltily, Diego thought maybe he should ask Mom if she would bring Klaus an extra snack during the night. Knowing him, he probably wouldn’t be asleep until after midnight anyway.

“Maybe Dad should cool it with Klaus’ training,” Diego said, thinking about how drained Klaus had been looking lately. Dad seemed to be pushing Klaus harder and harder with every session, and Diego was afraid he would break under the pressure. “He’s been real tired lately.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s a good thing,” Luther shrugged, unconcerned. “At least it’s keeping him busy, right? He’s been sober for a year now.”

That was true, Diego thought. Klaus had managed to stay away from any drugs for over a year, even weed. He felt a rush of pride for his brother. And maybe Luther was right. It was entirely possible that Klaus simply too distracted by the work he was doing to even think about using.

Their conversation was interrupted as red lights blinked through the room, a blaring alarm screeching in his ears. Diego and Luther looked at each, both rushing to put on their masks and stomp downstairs.

Reginald was standing poised at the door, waiting for them. They were the first to get there, but it didn’t take long for the rest of the line to fill up, and soon they stood at attention, ready for their orders like the good soldiers they were.

Their father gave them their instructions briskly, and Diego listened intently to what he said. He was so focused on what their plans were that he almost missed the quiet question when their father finished the layout of the mission.

“Where is Klaus?”

Ben’s voice drifted from across the line, causing Diego to look up. True to Ben’s words, Klaus was nowhere to be seen in the room. His spot next to Allison was empty. He met eyes with Vanya, who bit her lip in worry.

“Number Four is currently resting after a diligent day of practice,” Reginald answered dismissively. “He will be unable to attend today’s mission.”

“What kind of practice?” Ben persisted. Diego was surprised to see the forcefulness in which Ben pushed the subject; as children, the first time around, Diego remembered Ben being meek and anti-argumentative, and he usually acted that way still. Unease prickled in his body at the unusually accusative tone.

“That is none of your concern, Number Six, and you will refrain from pursuing the subject. Your brother has exceeded my expectations in his grasp of his powers, unlike you, I might add, and perhaps if you followed in his example, you would not think to question my decisions.” Reginald’s thundering lecture left them all startled. Usually, such harsh reprimands were directed _at_ Klaus, not in his defense.

Something was wrong. He had felt tiny prickles of it before, but to hear their father praise Klaus so overtly could mean nothing good. Diego had flashbacks to when he used to be held underwater, forced to hold his breath until his lungs filled and he started choking. Klaus had never liked his powers, sober or drugged up, and it was only now that it struck Diego as odd that his brother was training them so often now.

They all exchanged looks as Reginald turned around, leading them to the scene of the ongoing crime without further argument. Ben pursed his lips together, looking frustrated and angry.

The mission went swiftly and quickly, obstructed only by the distraction of Klaus’ absence.

“What do you think is going on?” Diego asked Ben, simultaneously flipping a man over his shoulder and stepping on his neck until he heard a satisfying crunch. Ben paced back and forth, stepping over the body easily.

“I don’t know. Klaus won’t talk to me, but it’s obvious something is going on.” Ben ducked as a man tried to lunge at him, Luther grabbing the criminal and throwing him against the wall.

“What do you mean?” Luther asked. “It’s just training, isn’t it?”

“That’s the thing,” Ben said, agitated. “Klaus’ training has never been orthodox, and he’s never liked to talk about it. He told me that they’re working on summoning, that he likes it better than what he did before, but I feel like he’s hiding something from me.”

“Oh, he’s definitely hiding something from you, all right,” Five said dryly, literally popping into the conversation.

“Hey! Take us seriously, you little fucks!” a burly man yelled at them, seething. Diego obliged, tossing a knife between his eyes. He fell with a thud.

“What do you mean?” Ben was asking Five.

“I saw a little bit of his ‘training’ session when I broke into the security room to erase Vanya’s accident. Whatever he was doing, it was wasn’t summoning.” Five zapped across the room, landing on a man’s shoulders and breaking his neck.

“What was he doing then?” Allison asked, the nearest to Five. He gave her a contemplative look.

Five tapped his chin thoughtfully, frowning. “He was laying on a table with an IV in. Dad and Mom were next to him.”

“What?” Diego’s alarmed tone was echoed by the rest of his siblings.

“I thought it was odd too. That’s why I asked him about his practice later. He lied about it.” Five shrugged in a ‘what-can-you-do’ motion.

There was silence, except for the sound of Ben ripping the last men into shreds. They all respectively averted their eyes from the horrors.

“We’ll talk to him tonight,” Ben said, dripping in blood. His tone booked no arguments. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you guys enough for all of your support, I am absolutely stunned by it. I read all of your comments and am so happy to hear your favorite parts.  
> I created a patreon yesterday, so if you would like to support me there I would be so thankful! It's under the name langelos.  
> What did you think of the new chapter? :)


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